


Integrity Now

by ParadoxR



Series: The Rest You Earn [2]
Category: Stargate (1994), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s01e01/2 Children of the Gods, F/M, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxR/pseuds/ParadoxR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By all rights, they should’ve hated each other. Separate from the preceding stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Assumed (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mebfeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mebfeath/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for cursing. Standalone, though I’m transitioning _Core Value_ into _The Rest You Earn_ in order to fix the chronology.
> 
> Thank you to my beta, bethanyactually. For mebfeath because, really, Sam and Jack do actually explode at each other in this one.

**16 April 1996 on Abydos:**

It’s not until the Gate whooshes closed behind them that things start to unblur for Jack. He’d been an ass to Project Giza of course, but that much he’d intended.

Daniel shifts nervously. “Well, I assumed the tablets would be here, I mean _right_ here.”

Something inside his skull hits Jack hard on the head. “You _assumed_?!”

“You’re a lying son of a bitch! You didn’t say a word about _finding_ anything!” Kawalsky slams the geek into the alien sand.

Jack issues orders by rote and keeps staring at the gash inside his own head. He tries to remember back to their mission rehearsals, the brief-back. How could he not have caught this? These men were supposed to go right home immediately. They weren’t supposed to do _anything_ here.

“But if we’re not back soon, they’ll just turn on the Gate from the other side.”

Jack’s head pivots towards the sound of a too-young lieutenant.

Ferretti counters loudly. “Oh, no. It doesn't work that way. You see, if _you_ don't turn it on from here, we're screwed!”

Jack’s pained gaze drifts around the alien pyramid once again. Did he really bring _four_ second lieutenants to the other side of the galaxy without even explaining _that_? What the hell has he done?


	2. This Guy Is a Total Idiot

**10 February 1997 in Cheyenne Mountain:**

“I’d prefer to put together my own team, sir.”

Sam freezes in the hallway outside her old briefing room. Oh, you have got to be kidding. Yes, Colonel, please publicly question a major general personally recalling someone you don’t even know without taking a literal second to wonder why he did. That’s brilliant. Because of course you already know everything there is to know about the fifteen-year-long program that you didn’t even in-brief before stonewalling. No reason to hold that objection for later or until you’ve actually thought about why a two-star feels the need to directly micromanage you.

General Hammond’s voice avoids escalating their exchange to the level of Sam’s internal tirade. “Not on this mission, sorry. Carter’s our expert on the Stargate.”

Sam keeps walking and manages not to smirk. It’s not every day that a junior captain earns the personal defense of a two-star.

“Where’s he transferring from?”

She swallows a snort. “ _She_ is transferring from the Pentagon. I take it you’re Colonel O’Neill.” Jackass. “Captain Samantha Carter reporting, sir.” And no, sir, no need to be surprised that you don’t even know the name of the _one_ person from your former command that _your major general_ unilaterally assigned to this mission. That shouldn’t give you pause, Colonel. Two-stars interfere with their subordinates all the time even when they aren’t completely incompetent.

“But of course you go by ‘Sam’.”

Sam forces a breath for the dark-haired major. “You don’t have to worry, Major. I played with dolls when I was a kid.”

“GI Joe?”

And here we go again. “No. Major Matt Mason.” Didn’t she do this in Iraq?

“Oh…who?”

“Major Matt Mason, astronaut doll. Did you have that cool little backpack that made him fly?”

Sam hides a look at the other major as the general interrupts their exchange. At least she’s not the only kid astronaut that found a career shooting up at the sky instead of down.

“Those of you on your first trip through the Stargate, you should be prepared for what to expect.”

Sam again manages not to snort at the bird colonel. If this is his idea of pre-mission preparation, he’s got another thing coming. A special ops vet seriously thinks that _talking_ is worth a damn when you’re about _transport across the galaxy_? Apparently he really is from a military where talking is more useful than training. “I’ve practically memorized your report from the first mission.” She looks at him pointedly. It wasn’t a useful read. “I’d like to think I’ve been preparing for this all my life.” And damn right she has, whether these guys like it or not.

“I think what the Colonel is saying is... have you ever pulled out of a simulated bombing run in an F-16 at 8-plus Gs?”

Sam has to find another dignified swallow for her laugh. The special operations major wants to talk about his incredible F-16 training. Because Kawalsky ever would’ve set foot in an F-16 if not for Gate preparation. Who do they think _created_ that program? “Yes.” Three months testing reconstitution effects strapped into a dozen different force and biometric sensors.

Kawalsky blinks. “Well…it’s way worse than that.”

Sam works up another retort before realizing that he really didn’t expect her to be trained for this. Who the heck do they think Hammond would’ve called in on his own? No, Major, I have a spare F-16D and pilot in my backyard.

Someone interrupts them again. “By the time you get to the other side, you’re frozen stiff like you’ve just been through a blizzard. Naked.”

Sam bucks at the other major’s innuendo. So much for Ferretti being the reasonable one. “That’s a result of the compression your molecules undergo during the millisecond required for reconstitution.” She strings together a reasonable phrase of low-grade intimidation.

“Oh, here we go, another scientist. General, please.”

“Theoretical astrophysicist,” Sam retorts to Colonel Jackass. And a _captain_. Because contrary to popular belief, Stargate programs don’t build themselves.

“Which means?”

Which means there is no universe in which she should need to explain this to a senior officer a _year_ after he stepped in on Catherine’s job. Catherine, who isn’t even allowed to be in here right now, by the way.

“It means she is smarter than you are, Colonel. Especially in matters related to the Stargate.”

Sam tries not to look smug at the general’s repeated telling-off. “Colonel, I was studying the Gate technology for two years before Daniel Jackson made it work and before you both went through.” For no apparent reason and with zero idea what you were doing. “I should have gone through then. But, sir, you and your _men_ might as well accept the fact that I am going through this time.” Because General Hammond would prefer that you not nuke yet another god.

“Well, with all due respect, Doctor—”

“It is appropriate to refer to a person by their rank, not their salutation. Call me ‘Captain’, not ‘Doctor’.” Sam feels the line under her foot as she crosses it.

“Captain Carter’s assignment to this unit is not an option, it’s an order.”

Sam jumps in behind the two-star’s unexpected support without thinking. “I’m an Air Force officer just like you are, Colonel. And just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside doesn’t mean I can’t handle whatever you can handle.” She continues glaring at the supposed colonel as he sits down. Thank God General Hammond is reasonable enough to be pissed at this loser as well.

“Oh, this has nothing to do with you being a woman. I _like_ women. I’ve just got a little problem with scientists.”

Sam notches up again. Maybe she can’t do their jobs yet, but she didn’t shatter her arm falling out of a goddamn ivory tower. “Colonel, I logged over a hundred hours in enemy airspace during the Gulf War. Is that tough enough for you? Or are we going to have to arm wrestle?” Colonel Jackass elects to move on, but Sam stays simmering. Four of her Security Forces airmen are murdered, and some supposed officer in this room didn’t even bother to _mention_ the existence of plasma rifles in his pathetic mission ‘report’.

“I hate to throw a damper on your enthusiasm,” Sam’s old Pentagon opponent draws their attention without any sign of remorse. “But I still say the safest, most logical way to deal with this is to bury the Stargate just like the ancient Egyptians did. Make it impossible for the aliens to return. It’s the only way to eliminate the threat.” Sam’s gotten far too used to that tone in Samuels’s voice over the years.

Colonel Idiot speaks before Sam does, which is probably a good thing for once. “Except it won’t work.”

“It worked before,” their general prods.

“They know what we are now.” Colonel O’Neill adopts the air of a man who isn’t an utterly incompetent ingrate. “They know how far we’ve come. We’re a threat to _them_. They’ve got ships, General. Ra had one as big as the Great Pyramids. They don’t need the Stargate to get here. They can do it the old-fashioned way. Now with all due respect to Mr. Glass-Is-Half-Empty over here, don’t you think we should use the Stargate to do a little reconnaissance before they come back...again?” The colonel explains all this without a hint of personal guilt.

Sam manages to wear a like-minded expression and swallow yet another ‘this guy is a total idiot’ comment. Yes, colonel, and whose fault _is_ all that exactly? Oh right, the senior officer who decided to _destroy Ra’s fleet_ without stopping to wonder if someone else might see that as threatening. The twenty-year special ops vet who didn’t consider ‘doing a little reconnaissance’ _on the other side of the galaxy_ the firsttime. Oh don’t worry sir, no one would expect a _full bird special operations colonel_ to know better than to blow up something they don’t understand. It’s not like making those decisions is the center point of your career or anything. They’d be on World War Five if the Air Force had more people like him. No, sir, please rest assured that the galaxy isn’t nearly big enough for the act of _nuking an interstellar god_ to possibly have any effect on anything. That’s exactly what Sam would’ve told him if he’d bothered to ask last year. It’s not like she spent more than half her early career working out how to handle whatever they’d face the other side of those wormholes.


	3. It’s Time to Grow Up

**15 February 1997 in Cheyenne Mountain:**

Jack stops his new 2IC in the hallway after their Chulak debriefing. On neutral ground, as it were. She’s been an overexcited duck to water off-world, but her hatchet is still entirely unburied at home. “So, Captain, welcome to SG-1.”

Sam manages a reasonable thank you. She’s still a little too self-satisfied from watching the general assign a bird colonel to command _maybe_ six people. This guy’s career is done, at least. Good luck making general in three years with _that_ as a job title.

Jack watches the muted laugh flit across her schooled face. Yeah, yeah, he’s been spectacularly demoted. He deserves it. Now someone mentioned something about aliens coming to Earth in motherships? “We’ll need a plan going forward.” A plan for the four people he might lead. Talk about micromanagement. “This is a wartime team, even if we’re not mainline combat.” Jack forces himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Understood, sir.”

It’s a characteristically solid delivery. His captain isn’t much for hatchet burying, but she can feign deference with the best of them. That’s not a good thing. “I’ll need your input. You’ve got a lot of work to do beyond just the team.” Jack gives her a beat to absorb the compliment. “And so do I.”

Sam watches him watching her and manages to keep her attitude in check.

He lets her hide the reaction. She’s probably still annoyed that he has a job at all, not that ‘advisor’ does much when you ought to be commanding multiple squadrons. “You’ll need to run some of the SG training. Plus the Earthside Gate.” Jack forces himself to relax on his heels.

Sam notes the colonel’s belated embrace of actually needing to be good at one’s job. Not that training is likely to do anything for him personally. “Yes, sir.”

Jack sighs. “You know, you really will like me once you get to know me.”

Sam’s eyes flash. That’s not funny. She can say that; _she’s_ not the one that blew up the goddamn galaxy! “Sir.” She doesn’t even force a ‘yes’.

He pastes on a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Captain.”

Her teeth grit. “No. Sir. We wouldn’t want to do that.” Much better to judge it before you’ve even met at all.

Jack feels himself step in that before she actually answers. Okay, assuming that Langford’s people were too incompetent to create a well-prepared Stargate program was a disastrous opening command move. And publicly second-guessing Hammond’s call on Carter wasn’t a great follow-up. But back to their impending apocalypse. “You know, Captain, aliens are coming to Earth in motherships.” Jack’s never been one for subtlety. What’s the betting her internal response is limited to ‘and whose fault is that?’

No shit, Sherlock. “I am aware of that, sir.”

Jack offers her a disappointed grimace. It’s time to grow up, Captain. We are where we are. “Then let’s do something about that, shall we?”

“I am, sir.” Sam tries to look like she has somewhere to go for that purpose. “Will that be all, sir?”

“That’ll be all.” Jack lets her go with a sigh. He’s not looking forward to scaling the immaturity of a twenty-something-year-old prodigal daughter.


	4. I’m Not Stopping You

Jack stays standing outside the briefing room until the captain disappears from view. She’s going to be a lot of work, that one. It’s not even that Jack blames her for being upset. It’s entirely reasonable with everything he’s done; it’s just not the way a captain gets to act. And he’s not looking forward to making her come to terms with what he did last year. It’s hard enough for him to live with. The excuse does nothing to fix his credibility, and the hard way is…well, hard. But that’s what the eagles are for. Or whatever insignia Hammond left on his shoulders; Jack’s still a little dizzy.

His legs have carried him there automatically, but Jack doesn’t hesitate to open the door despite what’s coming. “Hey, Charlie.”

“Jack.”

Jack takes a seat in his best friend’s office despite the major’s distinct ‘I’m about to get very mad at you’ tone. “How’s it going?”

“I just read our final mission report from last year.”

It’s blunt. Jack likes blunt. He’s had about all he can take of passive-aggressive subordinates for the day. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Funny, in fourteen years, I haven’t seen something like it. I was wondering why Hammond didn’t know what a staff weapon was. Why Carter was so surprised with the DHD.” He raps a folder on his desk. “Then I wasn’t.”

Jack sighs at himself. “West is the one that wanted to keep Giza in the dark, Charlie. This was never going to blow back on you.”

“Dammit, Jack! I’m not worried about this hitting me, I’m worried about it hitting _us_!” He manages to dump most of his anger into that statement. “Those kids who were in the Gate Room are dead. You know why?”

“No.” He really doesn’t.

“Neither do I!” Charlie scrubs his brow. “There’s no reason for it. Nobody prepped them. Why wouldn’t they _train_ them?”

“I don’t know.” Jack winds up on the receiving end of a very pointed ‘well you better damn find out’ look. God, he misses having a good 2IC. He collapses onto the chair back. It takes another four minutes to finally say it. Four minutes and ten months. “I really shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

“Then quit.”

Jack looks up at his best friend but still can’t read the intent of that phrase. Damn the new generation. “Would you still follow me?”

Charlie leans forward pointedly. “Jack, you _lied_ to me last year. I never would’ve let you do this if you hadn’t.” He pauses on the gravity of Ra’s death in a galaxy where they don’t actually understand anything. “And you lied in this report. And based on Captain Carter’s warm reception, I’m guessing you lied to her people, too. I lied _for_ you, and I need to be court martialed over it. I should’ve stopped you from working at all last year.”

The major’s gaze is solid, but Jack can see that he really does fault himself for that. “Yeah” is about as long an answer as he can manage.

“But I’m not stopping you now.”

Jack blinks at that for a long beat. It’s eventually enough for him to push back on his feet. The colonel pauses again at the door handle. “You know I really didn’t mean to pull you into this.”

“Yeah, well.” Charlie softens for his scarred friend. “You don’t need the chance to say goodbye anymore.”


	5. Just Needs Her

“Ahem.” Jack sighs at a doohickey on her shelf. “Anything particular you want to talk about?”

“No, sir.” Sam looks past him in the dim light of her lab.

“Ya sure?” Because she sure isn’t damn well acting like it. “No problems anywhere?” And there’s a general downstairs who definitely feels otherwise. Hammond nearly took Jack’s ear off, and not just for mishandling West and Ra. Also for not reporting any of the technology, including the plasma blasters that eventually murdered his airmen.

“There are quite a few problems here, sir.” Starting with someone in this room needlessly killing Project Giza and ending with that same dolt destabilizing the galaxy with a tactical nuclear warhead.

“True.” Jack tries to chart another course through this clusterfuck. “But you weren’t trained for that mission last year, Captain.”

Sam manages not to laugh out loud. Oh, that’s funny. Because not only was _that_ mission completely and unconscionably stupid, but none of the men he _did_ bring with him were remotely prepared for it. But sure, let’s listen to the guy who didn’t even check whether Jackson could dial home, and couldn’t clue in his own lieutenants enough to know the Gate is unidirectional. And wouldn’t dream of running anything like months of standard pre-mission training, because it’s not like he’s been leading airmen the same way since the 1970s.

“Our orders changed,” Jack continues. Namely, they became stupid, but that’s beside the point.

“Yes, sir.” From ‘investigate and don’t screw anything up’ to ‘if it’s dangerous, nuke it’. Because that’s not an order worth confronting. When has destroying something you don’t understand ever made anything worse?

“I didn’t want you involved.” Not strictly true since Jack had no idea she existed. But he really didn’t want _anyone_ involved.

“That went well.” Sam manages not to enunciate her sarcasm.

Yes, this is going spectacularly by comparison. “I understand you’re upset, Captain.”

_Upset?_ Eight people are dead because this supposed base commander can’t run a captain-level mission, and he thinks she’s ‘upset’. How can he really believe anyone’s that shallow? _Because he is. _Jerk.

“Captain,” Jack reminds her after a beat. His patience isn’t going to hold out if she keeps sneering at her keyboard.

Sam grits her teeth and tries to find something else to say without cursing. “I’m alarmed, sir.”

Jack nods. A destabilized galaxy in which everyone but them knows what’s going on and has giant space guns is…alarming. “Me, too.”

_Then next time think before you detonate the tactical nuke._ This guy must have been through at least two post-graduate programs; you’d think that would’ve been in there somewhere!

“But we’re going to have to deal with it,” Jack pushes at her again. Right now he just needs her to do her job.

“I am dealing with it, sir.” Sam gestures pointedly at her computer. Another light flickers out above them.

Jack stops short of literally jumping at the topic change. “Whatcha working on?”

“Search options for Airman Weterings,” she answers bluntly. “Risk assessments and protocols for Gate search patterning and intermittent remote reconnaissance.”

Jack walks up behind her but keeps his distance. “Hammond’s orders?”

“My own initiative.” Because oddly she gives a damn about this woman.

Jack pauses. “You know, Teal’c said—”

“I know what Teal’c said.”

He frowns sympathetically. Teal’c says they killed her, but since Apophis has a working sarcophagus and is now short a First Prime, that doesn’t mean much. “Captain.”

“ _Colonel._ ”

“Captain, we’ve got a lot of work to do down here.” He points this out without pressing further.

“This is a search procedure, sir. I’m going to have to write it anyway.”

True. Jack scrubs a hand through his hair and realizes for the sixtieth time today that he doesn’t know nearly enough about this place to make anything approaching strategic decisions. “What else is on your plate?”

“I sent you a memo, sir.” And the door is behind you on your left.

Jack frowns at her attitude and briefly considers whether or not to really poke the bear. “Captain. I am sorry about last year.” He’s basically a professional bear poker. “But right now you need to do your job.”

Something cracks in the keyboard. Or maybe it’s in her jaw. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Leaders wear out shoe leather, Captain. Not computers.” Although that one’s already in pretty bad shape.

“If my team were still here, _Colonel_ , I’d happily address this with them.” Unfortunately, someone took a sledgehammer to that unit last year.

It’s been a while since Jack’s heard his rank pronounced as a curse. “So talk to me.”

“I am talking to you. Colonel.” Sam turns to look past him. “What exactly is it you need to discuss?” Preferably something besides her unconscionable disrespect for stupid authority figures.

Jack takes his time pulling up a chair.


	6. Won’t Aim Low

“Let’s talk about how we’ll work together.” Jack gives the captain some space but pushes his chair to her side of the lab bench.

“Yes, sir.” Sam slides backwards and pulls her features back under control.

“ _Can_ you work with me?” It’s an honest question, even if he’s not looking forward to getting the honest answer.

“Yes, sir.” Sam’s perfectly capable of working with assholes as long as they don’t make her talk about it.

The captain turns to him with a distinct ‘just you try and piss me off’ look. “Good.” Sigh. “So, helicopter upgrades during the Gulf, right?”

Wow, someone can actually read. “Yes, sir.”

Apparently Jack’s gonna need a not yes-or-no question here. “You like it?” …Jack’s not particularly adept at forming not yes-or-no questions.

“Yes, sir.”

Personally Jack prefers a good yes-no, really. And he doesn’t have much practice coaxing opinions out of subordinates. Most of his guys have been hard to shut up, and those that aren’t learn right quick that he doesn’t tolerate carrying the weight of conversations himself. And he definitely doesn’t abide by the yes-manning or lack of initiative that it usually indicates. “Learn much?”

“Yes, sir.”

Oh come on, that’s cheating. Jack sighs and falls back on the standard fare. “What’re you looking to achieve here?”

Sam’s eyebrow cocks at the almost ignorantly typical question. “I’d like us to win the war. Sir.”

“How novel.” God, she really is going to make this difficult. “Anything more specific?” Jack leans casually into his growing irritation.

“I’m here to be an officer in the United States Air Force, sir. To lead my airmen.” Sam feels that not actually glaring at him as she says this is deference enough.

“Good idea.” Did he mention he’s had enough of passive-aggressive subordinates for the day? Jack refuses to sigh. “What do you feel you can contribute?”

 _‘Feel’?_ “Don’t you _feel_ like you should’ve asked that last year?” …Oops.

“Yes.” That took her long enough. The captain’s eyes jerk to his, and Jack keeps them. “But, Captain—”

“I apologize, sir.” Sam breaks her gaze away to stare at the cement wall.

“To my rank or to me?” Jack asks before deciding to pick a different battle. “What do you think you can contribute?”

Sam resigns herself to actually explaining this. “I know how Giza’s teams worked. I can put it back together, and I can navigate this from a Pentagon perspective. Policy, budget, capabilities, risk management. I can also run the Control Room, at least a shift. And then there’s off-world Gate testing. I’m still the logical team leader for that.” Sam says this to the wall, but she’s drawn by the colonel’s almost constant nodding.

“The SG teams aren’t for technical investigation, Captain. They’re for exploration and threat assessment.”

Her jaw tightens. “Are you saying you don’t think I can lead a team?” She’s a freaking captain for Chrissakes. Team command _stops_ at captain.

“No, I’m asking whether you intend to work on SG-1 as well.” Jack tries a friendly smile against her confusion. “Our rescue and attack forces don’t have SG numbers either, Sam. That doesn’t mean they don’t need COs.”

“I…” He’s letting her off SG-1? That’s…she’s not sure how she feels about that.

“Captain.” Jack levels her a more determined look. “Your plate is full.” Captains are notorious for wearing too many small hats, but running their risk prioritization office _and_ multiple expeditionary missions on top of the Gate command is really pushing it.

“You want me off SG-1.”

“No.” The immediateness of that surprises even him a little. “I want you to want to work for me.”

Sam frowns. This guy really won’t aim low, will he?


	7. I Hope So

Jack leans back and stretches out in her cold laboratory chair. “Though to be honest, I’m not so sure about this whole SG-1 thing myself.”

Sam keeps reading from her computer screen. “Oh?”

“Not exactly my pay grade.” He lifts his hands off his eyes to look at her. “Truth is I haven’t done this Superman crap in, what, a decade?” He shrugs. “Why Hammond would pick a washed-up strategist over a Special Forces warrant officer who can actually do this job…” Jack trails off. He really doesn’t know why Hammond’s doing this.

Sam shifts uncomfortably at his ability to make her curious. “Do you know why he did, sir?”

His lips tug sideways. “Something about keeping his enemies closer.” It gets her to smirk. “That or he thinks I would’ve made a great master sergeant.” And there’s some grounds for that, though they sailed away well before his first master’s degree. “Yeah. It’s a weird assignment. I wouldn’t be surprised if this doesn’t work out between us.”

Sam’s gaze darkens. If he’s actually going to blame the mess between them on _her_ … _He’s_ the liar. He’s the screw-up. She didn’t come all this way to get kicked around by yet another senior officer.

Jack reaches for a technical intelligence report on her desk and waits. _‘Master Teal’c indicates that all DHDs are located in approximately the same location relative to their Gates. Specifically, the dialing interface is orientated such that…’_

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Sir.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “I do still believe it’ll end up alright when you get to know me.” She keeps the distinct undercurrent of ‘you know, most COs get to know their subordinates _before_ they start getting them killed’.

“I hope so.” Jack looks at her honestly. “But if we really do this SG-1 thing, it won’t be like Gate testing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Okay, now she’s just doing that to annoy him. “Yeah. And you’re gonna need a lot more training.” And a fucking shorter fuse. He’s starting to think that crashing in her lab and babbling for an hour isn’t the best way to open up their dialogue.

“I know, sir.” Sam throws in another syllable before the twitch in his jaw goes permanent.

Jack picks up a stapler to fiddle away his frustration. “This will get ugly, Captain. Uglier than you can get at hundred and fifty knots or ten thousand feet.” Meaning you’ve gotta train for dealing with locals. And politics. And plasma rifles.

“I’m good with dangerous, sir.”

Hey, a full sentence. Jack sits up and lets the stapler drop to his lap. “I’m glad, Captain. But you’re not trained for land-combat dangerous.”

“I am here because you need me here. Colonel.” Sam goes back to glaring at her half-open door. “That’s how you get what you want in this business. By working for it until you’re the best candidate.” And lord knows what that says about this guy’s competition. “I don’t _ask_ for billets where I could get people killed just because they sound neat.”

“Good.” Jack finally shoots her a look that makes her swallow. He’s had it with underhanded shots. They’re going overhand. “But you may not make the cut for a permanent frontline unit.” That would take time. Work. A total attitude adjustment.

“I will get where I need to be, sir.”

It’s still gruff, but a little more practical. Jack waits for a longer response. Preferably, ‘And you’re right, sir, I am taking this too personally. Sorry to waste your time and thank you for bringing it to my attention; I will now proceed to get over it and act like the goddamn company-grade supervisor that I am.’ …No such luck. “Captain, we are where we. If you can’t handle that _right now_ , I will remove you.”

_He’ll_ remove her? “I have no intention of failing in my command responsibilities, sir.” Did that sound accusatory? Good.

“ _Captain!_ ” He’s sat in this lab for almost an hour today, and she still won’t listen to a goddamn word he’s saying.

“Colonel, in what universe would a two-star general personally, unilaterally recall someone _unfit_ for the position that he needs?”

Jack blinks visibly before realizing that she’s talking about herself and Hammond.

“General Hammond staked his career, his reputation, not to mention the mission and all of our lives on the need to bring me in. I have a duty to live up to that. He believed he had to, even when you didn’t even bother to figure out _why_ before publicly undercutting him.”

Finally. There’s one he deserved. Plus it’s nice to see her defending her boss, even if it is a proxy war for repeatedly calling him an idiot. “You’re right.”

“I— …I am.” She makes that a statement, not a question. Mostly.

“And I didn’t mean to imply you hadn’t earned his confidence.” Jack leans toward her and props both elbows on the lab bench.

Sam only waits a beat before accepting that there’s exactly one correct response to that. “Thank you, sir.” She doesn’t even grimace. “And I’ve never claimed I was fully qualified. Only that right now I’m necessary.” She’s on the clock, she knows. Either she qualifies for special ops work, or one of his men qualifies for hers.

Jack nods pushes aside her stapler. “Good. So, you have anything else to say to me?”

Her head jerks up in surprise.


	8. I Hate You

“Sir?” Sam prods in disbelief. He can’t possibly be asking her to apologize to a man that has the strategic foresight of a goldfish. Even though she probably should. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Though ‘I hate you; you’re a jackass’ comes to mind.

Jack leans forward on her lab bench and waves between them. “You don’t have anything you want say to me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re…” Sam trails off as the colonel bolts to his feet. Uh oh.

Jack storms towards her lab door and slams it closed. He’s done. Screw his own mistakes, they’re doing this the offensive way. She’s lost her last chance to wake the fuck up.

Sam grits her jaw and glares downward. She really was being civil; he doesn’t need to make a scene.

“Captain. Carter.”

Her head jerks back up. She wasn’t expecting him to stay on this side of the door. “Yes, sir.”

“Captain.” Jack waits until he’s close enough to be physically intimidating. “You are allowed to be upset with me. You are even allowed to hate me.” Something kicks Jack inside his head. “But what you cannot do, Airman, is continue to ignore your job.”

“Colonel—” _Excuse_ me?

“You have a duty as an officer to provide me with your professional opinion. As you are trained to do.”

“Yes, sir—”

“‘Yes, sir’ is _not_ a professional opinion!!” Jack slams the nearest cabinet and lets his voice rise. He gestures darkly, close enough to see her sweat in the dull light. “Do you know what that is, Captain?”

She glares at it unflinchingly. “It’s a door. Sir.”

“It’s a closed door.” He steps back without shifting expressions. “Do you know what it means when a colonel closes a door?”

Sam had figured it meant she was about to get reamed, but now she’s wondering if it won’t be more physical. “Sir, if you’re upset—” And why would the full bird special operations colonel possibly be upset with her behavior.

“It means tell me what the HELL IS GOING ON.” Jack makes his fist land on the desk but otherwise lets his eyes do the talking.

She refuses to wince for him. “I don’t believe I’ve kept anything from you, Colonel.”

Jack leans forward enough to make her clamp down on a flinch, but then he just sits. “Captain, I have been doing this for a damn _long_ time. With a lot of officers. And as long as that door is closed, I expect you to speak your professional mind. I don’t give a _shit_ if you _express_ your mind ‘professionally’. I’ve heard a lot of cursing from a lot of captains, Captain. You don’t scare me.”

Sam takes a minute to look past him in silence. She’s pretty damn sure that isn’t the real MO of the jackass who stonewalled Giza last year. And then lied to everyone, and left her behind to deal with it. Who left behind four closed caskets and torn families.But she doesn’t damn well care anymore. “I’m mad at you, sir.”

“No shit.” Jack keeps his seat.

He _knew_? What the hell else is there to say? Sam grits her jaw and locks her eyes over the top of his head.

“Talk about it.”

 _Talk_ about it? What the hell is _talking_ about it going to do, Colonel?

“Speak!” Jack barks. He sighs and resists the urge to try another show of force. “You’re mad about not being there when it happened last year.”

Oh, for fuck’s… “ _No._ Sir.” Sam finally starts glaring at him again. “I’m mad because your method of preparing for _the most important mission_ in the human history was to _not_ prepare for it!” Idiot.

Jack grimaces. And here he thought they might’ve been mad about different things. “I worked with what I had.” Because apparently he now has the judgement of a second-year cadet.

Sam huffs. “You had _me_. You had Giza. You had fifteen years of work on this project and the first thing you did was throw it away!” Her eyes are starting to water. “You threw away people’s _lives_ , sir. Their livelihoods, their careers are over. You _killed_ for lieutenants.” Sam finds something to grip in her blur. “Kids you didn’t even bother to talk to, who didn’t have a clue what they were doing there, who shouldn’t have been out there in the first place and wouldn’t have stayed if you’d taken even an ounce of responsibility for your job.” She’s shaking now, out of fear of what he did, of what she might do wrong too. “They’re gone, sir. They gave their life and death to their country, and you _wasted_ their lives because you won’t bother to briefback a civilian guide. You’re damn right I don’t want to work for you!” She hears more than sees the angry tear hit her desk.

Jack’s getting dizzy. If the old colonel were a lesser man, he’d doubt his strength to go through this. Unfortunately, the new Jack apparently _is_ that lesser man. “I understand. I didn’t know what Giza had done.”

Sam stops just short of lunging at him. “Your _job_ is to know!” She grabs the benchtop hard enough to shake it. “The military plans things, sir. That’s what it _does_. Why should _I_ have been any different?!” How many millions of people are going to die because of him? How many billions?

Jack walks back around to stand next to her again. He hadn’t been expecting this. Another stupid oversight. “Sam…”

She flips around to face him and almost stumbles the few inches between them. “In the future, _sir_ , I would appreciate it if you didn’t start your command planning from the premise that my people are completely incompetent at their jobs!” She wants to shake him but falls back in her chair and catches her head in her hands.

Jack lets his knees moan as he sits on the floor.


	9. For My People

Sam tries to hold the tears in her eyes as she blinks at the bird colonel sitting on the floor of her lab.

“You’re right.” Jack balances his arms on his knees and adjusts to the frigid concrete.

She sniffs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sir, but of course I am.” She blinks enough to look at him without tearing up. “I’m surprised your second lieutenants didn’t tell you, and second lieutenants are idiots.” And terrified of colonels like him. She should know.

Jack snorts lightly. Ah, to be a young and brilliant recent college graduate again. And end up dead within the year. “All true.” He gives her a long beat. She doesn’t use it. “Anything else?”

Sam’s brief calm dissolves at his placating tone. This isn’t a venting session, colonel. She doesn’t need babysitting. What she needs is a commander that sees earning the loyalty of his organization as more than just busywork. “You don’t have anything else to say, sir?”

Jack tilts his head at the question. “What would you like me to say?” Because half his mind is still fighting over whether to tell her the truth.

She manages to bury her retort. He really is just going to baby her through this. “Why are you even bothering with this, sir?”

He pulls his knees back up and looks at her earnestly. “To help you come to terms with what happened last year.”

Sam loses control of the huff and jerks to her feet, unwilling to play the fake power shift any longer. “Sir, my problem isn’t with what happened last year.”

Jack creaks to his feet and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Oh?” That was probably too exaggeratory. It earns him a glare.

“My problem is with what’s happening _now_. I’m trying to do what’s right for my people.” Sam braces on her lab desk and thinks of all the stupid things she’s done in here. Wrong priorities, wrong moves, missing backup plans, unmanaged risks. Programs shouldn’t just bleed people the way Giza did.

Jack leans over her shoulder and forces the edge out of his voice. She looks sad. “Meaning?”

Sam sniffs back the tear and whips around to almost bump into his nose. “Meaning I have a problem working for a man who exhibits the strategic foresight of an amnesiac goldfish!”

Jack blinks. That’s a pretty good one.

“I’ve been to eight funerals in ten months, sir. My techs downstairs are working around the clock, and I still don’t have any idea how we’re getting Airman Weterings back. Giza was completely dismantled last year. Slashed and wasted away for no reason, because you took the decades’ work of a hundred good people, blew it up with a nuclear bomb, and told them that they failed. When we _knew_ that there had to be more.”

Jack stops his hand from touching her. “I didn’t do that.”

Sam stumbles slightly as she turns back on him. “What?”

His hand drops. “Giza, slashing it. Whatever happened there—the ‘just take it out of the budget’ move. People being transferred out with no plan, not having the Gate sealed, not getting the guards clearance. It wasn’t me.” She’s visibly shaking now. He doesn’t blame her, it probably should have been him. Jack may have played it wrong last year, but lord knows who West sent in to harass Langford next. It’s the general’s standard procedure, but that particular thought didn’t visit the bottom of Jack’s beer bottle until sometime in July.

Sam braces on the marred desk as its scratches whirl around of her. “You’re right.”

He can’t help but smile at finally scoring one.

Her knees buckle as she almost misses the chair. “It was me.”


	10. There’s a Reason

Jack grabs the back of the chair as she nearly misses it. What? “Huh?” She probably deserved something more eloquent than that.

Sam catches her head in her hands again and stares at the dust on her lab floor. “Everything you said. Everything about Giza. It wasn’t you, it was me.”

Jack finds his own chair and leans forward. “Captain, you’re a…captain. Langford—”

Her head shakes. “Catherine’s gone, sir. She’s been gone for months. We lost our unit status, she lost her position.” There’s an edge of anger in her dizziness. “Don’t you think she’d be here if she could?”

Jack pauses. He’d figured Langford retired. Granted, he’s never actually seen that stop his own reactivation. “You can’t have been next in line. There are other civilian managers.” Part of him’s glad that she’s snagged the buck from whoever is supposed to get it, but she’s certainly not holding it very well.

Sam shakes her head and tries to straighten up in the chair. She is not crying. “I was the ranking officer. West’s office wouldn’t give it back to a civilian, and they wouldn’t bring anyone else in.”

The weight of this particular stratum of clusterfuck finally hits him. God, that man is a jackass. “Carter.” Jack waits to earn her gaze back. “West set you up.”

Sam just nods. “Because he wanted the program to fail.” She looks to her CO for confirmation and sees it. “So he picked me.” She pulls away when she can’t bear to see him look at her.

“It’s not like that.” Jack reaches for her shoulder and misses.

“It worked!” God, she _killed_ those Gate guards. She’s so mad at him for the lieutenants, and she’s got four closed caskets of her own.

“Captain.” Jack finally finds her BDU jacket. “Be rational.” She was twenty-seven, for crying out loud. Half the reason captains lead flights and majors take the next level is so they’ll be ready to handle crap like this if they make light colonel. You know, things like Major General Asshole and interstellar nuclear wars. Jack accepts that he’s not exactly the best example of that last point. “You can’t be expected to jump from running a twelve-person flight to commanding a miniature Manhattan Project. There’s a reason you’re only promoted based on command experience.”

Sam’s really getting sick of his damn excuses. “Sir, people are dead. Four airmen whose families will never know that we wasted their lives. Earth’s lost almost a year in pursuing the only way we have to stop the enslavement of our planet, and I’ve dumped millions and millions of dollars into shutting down and starting up this program again. People four years away from federal retirement were fired for failure to perform something they had no way of doing, and I need them back on board _right now_ if we have any hope of rescuing Weterings from Apophis.”

Jack clamps down on the urge to touch her again and studies her downcast features. Dammit, he’s actually starting to like her. “You’re right.” And he needs to go do something very stupid.


	11. Hell of a Way to Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as the first chapter of the sequel, but I realize it makes more sense here. Plus it'll put you out of your misery. A little.

Sam pulls back as the bird colonel stand ups and bolts out of her lab. She’d call it abrupt and inconsiderate, but this is the guy that didn’t think far enough ahead to equate ‘nuke alien god-king’ with ‘appear dangerously threatening’.

 

Daniel jerks backwards from Sam’s lab as the door opens and immediately closes again. He feels like a kid caught with a glass to the bedroom door, except that he really didn’t need a glass for that argument. They should soundproof this place. “Hi, Jack.”

The colonel is question dodges around the archeologist and tries to remember what room he needs. “Daniel.”

“Jack, wait!” Damn, he’s fast. Daniel shuffles after him while trying not to spill his coffee. “Look, I just wanted to say…” He breathes as Jack finally stops. “I know you’ve caught a lot of flak for what you did on Abydos. And I know I’m still not happy about you bringing the bomb, I really think that your decision to kill Ra—”

Jack stops short of actually pushing the man out of his way. “No one cares what you think.” He moves around him but stops as Daniel clears his throat again. Fuck this. “Doctor Jackson. I spent a twenty-three years in special operations. A decade leading combat controllers through hell and another thirteen commanding squadrons and staff offices from here to Ramstein, Germany. I don’t need someone to _tell_ me that nuking a galactic dictator risks the lives of six billion people on my planet.” Except that he apparently does. “I don’t need someone to tell me I screwed over my own organization last year.” 

 

Daniel heads back to Sam’s door slowly and mourns the splash of coffee Jack spilled pushing past him the third time. This is getting frustrating. He gets the strategic argument. He does. He just doesn’t like the implication that his entire family of Abydos ought to be dead. 

 

Sam blinks away the sting in her eyes and looks back at the dim computer screen. ‘Draft Protocol – Immediate Search for Abducted Personnel Held on Unknown Planets.’ Unknown planets. Six months ago she was dialing so much she burnt through all the money she should’ve used to seal the Gate. And all the credibility she needed to get the guards clearance. And now what? Giza’s abolished, and Teal’c’s already given them almost a _hundred_ addresses, most of which they can’t even solve. Great going, Captain.

Sam’s head jerks up at the hesitant knock on the door. Far too hesitant to be a bird colonel. That’s good, at least. “Enter.”

“Hey. Uh.” Daniel sips at his coffee. “I was going to ask about working on the staff weapon. But I get it if you want to…” He gestures after the man he personally has no intention of following.

Sam blinks the fog from her head. “If I want to what?”

“Follow Jack. He seemed upset, and if you don’t want him talking to Project Giza alone.”

“He’s talking to Giza?” They haven’t even been in-processed yet.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m just guessing but…” Daniel trails off as she blows past him.

 

“Good afternoon.” Jack pivots slowly in the crowded room. “My name is Colonel Jonathan O’Neill. And I am the man that you hate.”


End file.
